


-less

by micah_n10 (micah)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-01
Updated: 2008-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micah/pseuds/micah_n10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Suffix.</i> 1. without, lacking. 2. unable to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Iruka’s POV

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beasiesgal](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=beasiesgal).



> Beta by [kita_the_spaz](http://kita-the-spaz.livejournal.com/).

Soundless, noiseless, speechless, wordless...

There were a lot of words ending in -less that would have perfectly described the shinobi mission-room regulars that day. Bloodless—considering the amount some had lost—was another.

Dango-less, senbon-less, cigarette-less… they were all valid.

And Iruka had to concede that if it had been anyone else pinned to the back wall, a certain jounin's hand slipping beneath their vest, knee firmly planted between their thighs, tongue conducting a thorough tonsil search-and-rescue, he too would be standing there with the rest of them - motionless.

As it was, he was pleasantly writhing in a breathless, boneless state while making some very interesting and heedless noises. And he felt careless. Because it was _his_ jounin pressed up against _him_. Fingers relentless, kisses merciless, with a need that felt endless.

And it didn't matter that he was acting mindless, or that every touch, every taste of his lover was leaving him just a little more senseless. It didn't matter that they were in the mission room with fathomless sets of eyes watching their every move, and every whisper.

So long as his jounin was there, alive and safe, it didn't matter. Regardless.


	2. Kakashi POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Suffix._ 1\. without, lacking. 2. unable to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by [kita_the_spaz](http://kita-the-spaz.livejournal.com/).

Kakashi stumbles through the gates of Konoha, his body moving in a fluid, tireless motion - conscious thought long ago forgotten. It feels as though he's been wandering for years, a directionless man drowning in his own quenchless thirst to be home and warm and _safe_.

To be somewhere where his world isn't a colourless, timeless nightmare. Where ceaseless crowds of faceless people don't stare and hiss; _godless, faithless, Sharingan Demon._ Where he no longer has to be just another ruthless shinobi, a remorseless wraith leaving hundreds slaughtered in his wake.

Where he no longer has to be the legendary copy-genius.

He wants... Kakashi's gloved hand curls just a little tighter, the kunai hidden in his pocket slicing just a little deeper. He wants to be wrapped tightly in strong arms, his body being held seamless against a warm chest as wanton lips alight butterfly-soft across his jaw and down his neck, forgiving.

He wants the gentle baritone of his lover's voice, the repeated whispers and constant reminders that it's okay; _they_ are okay, and _he_ is okay and _it is okay_. That he isn't some emotionless, soulless monster. He isn't some compassionless man living a worthless lie.

He wants it, but more so he _needs_ it.

Pausing mid-step, the sudden realization has Kakashi's single visible eye widening. A heartbeat later and he continues forward, expression schooled. In its place mild disinterest, a slackened posture and a tawdry orange book to fortify the flawless visage. It is a practiced, effortless change; though the thought remains. He needs it, he needs _him_.

The need is pointless and purposeless but it is also bottomless. He needs him. His chuunin, his lover, _his_.

It is a small insatiable thought, an insight into his psyche and he wonders why he hasn't noticed sooner. Clueless, he thinks fondly, ambling into the missions room.

Overwhelmed by sound and scent, the pure homeliness that goes hand in hand with scrolls and papers, ink and cleaning oils, cajoles and laughter, it is here that the weeks constant need to be tireless, dreamless, faultless, tearless, blameless... everything he is not, pulling him down and under, is finally felt.

And suddenly he doesn't care where he is or who is watching, because he needs, needs, needs to feel what is irredeemably his in his arms and against his body. He needs the touches and the whispers and the taintless, stainless, shamelessness of his chuunin to ground him before he shatters into a thousand tiny pieces where he stands.

And then he has him.

Lungs breathless, noises heedless, body boneless. He has his chuunin and it's okay, they're okay, _he's okay_. He _is_ okay. Kakashi repeats the words like a mantra. He's home and he's safe and for the first time in what seems an eternity, he doesn't feel quite so lifeless.


End file.
